Harry Potter and The Book of the Dead
by Bart Chamber
Summary: This is a HHR fic. Ron will turn on Harry. Harry will lose someone more dear to him than Sirius. Harry will turn to Dark Arts for salvation. Set After OOTP.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to harry potter or any of its characters. If i did i wouldn't be writing this .

I also don't own the character '**_Ramses_** the Damned' but i do own the nice description about The book of the Dead, and i also own The Dagger of Kaza'hoden, cause i made them up. If I'm wrong please don't sue me as it wouldn't be worth the cost to hire a lawyer for any of us since I'm broke .

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A sixteen year old boy lay curled on his bed in a darkened room, books and other odd items lay scattered around his room. Each item brought him memories, some he had forgotten other he would give anything to forget, for they only brought him pain.

Pain.

It was a familiar feeling, a remembrance of old torments that echoed in his mind.

Pain.

It was something that every being welcomes with open arms, a feeling that told you were alive. It was a feeling that this boy loathed above all others; the boy is famous in one world and a freak in another. The boy had a title that all knew him by 'The Boy Who Lived' with it came a mark that made him differ from all others his age, the mark was a scar. A scar the resided on his forehead, shaped in the image of a lightning bolt. To some this scar represented hope, that even when the darkest of times are upon us, the light will always shine brightest. To the scarred boy it represented that he was wrong in his life, for only a month had been since the death of his godfather, a month had been since all hope was extinguished in his life.

Finally against his own better judgement the boy, also known as Harry James Potter, finally decided to move. Slowly like a bear that has been awakened from a long slumber he uncurled himself and sat on his broken uncomfortable bed. With difficulty he made himself stand up and slowly stretched his malnourished body, each movement bringing the much despised pain back.

There on the lying against the opposite wall was a rare tome of incalculable value, a gift that he had ordered two months past for his best friends upcoming birthday. The tome was called 'The Book of the Dead' it cost him half the gold that he had in his Gringotts vault. Under normal circumstances he would never treat such a tome with such disregard, after all it had ended up laying there cause of him. He had thrown it there after reading it another time, searching for the answers of how to bring his godfather back from the dead. His godfather Sirius Black, a man who was wrongly imprisoned for nearly thirteen years for a crime he never committed. To the world his godfather was a dead Deatheater, a wizard who had sold his soul for power, gold or whatever reason a man may sell his soul for. To him he was a link to his late parents, a link to a dream where he grew up in a loving and caring environment. Where he didn't spend the first eleven years of his life living in a cupboard under the stairs. Now there was one less link to his parents, one less link to his unfulfilling dream.

Slowly he made his way to the priceless mistreated tome each step flooded his body with pain, pain that told him he was alive. Why he wished to read it again he didn't really know, all he knew that he had to read it again, after all there could have been something that he had missed, something that told him how to bring his godfather back. He knew he was lying to himself believing in such a false hope, after all he already knew what the first page of the book of by heart by now. As he continued to take the steps towards the tome, each step leading him back in to false hope, the words of the first page of the tome echoed in his mind.

_'The Book of the Dead'_

_Within these pages lie a lifetime of studies that I have done into the forbidden arts of Necromancery. Due to the nature of the art it was labeled in my time as a Dark Art, mayhap those who will follow my great work will be living in an age where this art is no longer forbidden. To those who will practice this art when it is still forbidden i urge you to take great care in what you do, this art is more volatile and dangerous than that of Potions. After all in the art of potion brewing one can at worst merely die, unlike Necromancery where one can lose their soul. _

_You mayhap wonder who would be so foolish to meddle in such a dangerous art, what manner of a wizard would risk their soul for an art. The answer is only **I **in my day and age would commit such an act. **I** alone created the 'Drought Of Living Death'. Who am I you may wonder, I shall enlighten thee for I am **Ramses 'The Damned'.**_

_I was given the title of 'The Damned' by my peers due to choice of study in the arts of Necromancery. None could fathom the usefulness of such answers of raising the dead but I alone. If thou still seek the to raise the dead continue to read, though I must warn thee many will find the art revolting and unbecoming of a true wizard._

_To begin with there will be several compulsory items thou shall need in order to successfully raise the dead. The first and foremost is a unedited copy of this tome as I believe many will be destroyed or savaged by those who cannot comprehend the greatness of this difficult and dangerous art._

_The other compulsory item thou shall need to acquire is the Dagger of Kaza'hoden. With Kaza'hoden you will have the perfect conduit to channel the energies needed to raise the dead._

_And finally you will need the the body of the subject that you wish to raise.'_


End file.
